


Movers and Shakers

by americanhoney913



Series: Julie and the Himbos [6]
Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: 1989 World Series, Gen, Is the world ending?, Jewish!Reggie, pre-Hotdogs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:35:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27585514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americanhoney913/pseuds/americanhoney913
Summary: It takes them six cassettes— grudgingly, Luke lets Alex defile his precious Walkman with the Madonna album— before they pull into the driveway of a pretty stone house. Reggie's Bubbie and Zadie's house.“Alright, boys, we’ll be back on Wedneday and we’ll drive back up Thursday morning,” he tells them as they spill out of the car. Even though it’s a typical school week, everyone’s too excited about the upcoming World Series between the Oakland Athletics and the San Francisco Giants. Any day Luke doesn't have to go to school is a good day.ORReggie, Alex, and Luke go to visit Reggie's grandparents for the 1989 World Series. And get a little more than they bargained for.
Relationships: Alex & Luke Patterson & Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms)
Series: Julie and the Himbos [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959466
Comments: 3
Kudos: 41





	Movers and Shakers

**Author's Note:**

> TW in end notes
> 
> Bubbie - grandma in Yiddish  
> Zadie- grandpa in Yiddish
> 
> Well, the boys do live in California...

Reggie’s grandparents are the best. At least in Luke’s opinion. Which is the only opinion that matters, really. Unlike Luke’s grandparents, who live on the other side of the country so he only gets to see them for Christmas, Reggie’s live only six hours away and their door is always open for Luke and Alex as well. So the boys pile in the back of Reggie's dad's super nice car, Alex in the middle because he’s the only one who doesn’t get carsick, and shove their heads into Luke’s Walkman’s headphones. He’s got a special pair that’s been so stretched out so the three of them can listen at the same time that his parents had to buy him a second pair just for himself.

 _We Didn’t Start the Fire_ blasts through the headphones, his newest cassette, and Luke headbobs hard enough to knock his forehead against Alex’s. “Dude, seriously?” Alex grumbles as he rubs his head. Luke just gives him a goofy smile. Luke’s brought a little bag of cassettes, filled with Rush tapes and David Bowie and Prince, that one Madonna tape Alex bought with his allowance but is too scared to bring home, and his new Nirvana cassette.

“ _Hypodermics on the shores, China's under martial law. Rock and roller cola wars, I can't take it anymore!_ ” the three boys shout, Alex’s hurting forehead obviously forgotten.

“Boys, you can listen to your music, but what have we told you about volume?” Reggie’s mom, Martha, says in her gentle “I’m angry at you” voice. She’s wearing a beautiful outfit with a pearl necklace/earing combo that probably cost half Reggie’s dad’s paycheck and a whole lot of arguments. She’s pretty in the way the girls in Luke’s grade try to be, but Alex calls her a 1950s housewife when she’s not around. Luke doesn’t really care. He’s only interested in his friends and music and whatever’s for dinner tonight. Girls aren’t even on his radar… unlike Reggie. He’s been talking about this Sarah Mulhound from his Hebrew school class since they were paired together for something or other and hasn’t shut up about her.

“Uh, it has to be low and we have to be quiet,” Alex mumbles, tacking on a “ma’am,” at the end. Always a suck-up. “No singings out loud either.”

Luke _hates_ driving in the car with Reggie’s parents. They like to listen to classical music— _barf—_ and talk about politics— _total_ _snoozefest_ —and what’s happening in the neighborhood— _someone please gag Luke with a spoon_. So they don’t like it when the boys are louder than a two on their stuck-up volume meter. Luke hates it but, if he wants to go to Reggie’s Bubbie and Zadie, he has to follow the adults' rules, no matter how stupid they are.

Reggie’s snacking on a combination of Doritos and Dunkaroos, passing the bag between the three boys as they try to pass the time. Luke can’t move much without elbowing Alex, but he tries to riff on the guitar anyway. Alex is using his pointer fingers to tap out the back rhythm and Reggie jams in the little space he has, getting Dorito dust all over the front of his shirt.

It takes them six cassettes— grudgingly, Luke lets Alex defile his precious Walkman with the Madonna album— before they pull into the driveway of a pretty stone house. It has a windowed porch on the second floor— Reggie’s designated space when he stays over— and the shutters are painted baby girl pink. Reggie’s dad, David, steps out of the car first.

“Alright, boys, we’ll be back on Wedneday and we’ll drive back up Thursday morning,” he tells them as they spill out of the car. Even though it’s a typical school week, everyone’s too excited about the upcoming World Series between the Oakland Athletics and the San Francisco Giants. Everyone’s buzzing and traveling to see the game happening late today. Reggie’s parents have tickets to the game, so they’re dropping the boys off. Reggie wanted to go, but his parents said no. Most of the teachers also asked for a few days off until the principal just said “screw it” and gave everyone three days off. Any day Luke doesn’t have to go to school is a good day.

Alex takes a dramatic deep breath as he emerges from the car and Luke wacks his shoulder. Reggie sucks the Dorito dust off his fingers and tosses the now-empty bag back into the backseat.

“Reginald,” Martha scolds, “take your trash with you. We do not keep trash in the car. Have some respect. Your father worked hard to get this car.” Probably not, Luke thinks, because he's a rich lawyer that brings his arguments home with him. 

“Sorry, Ma.” Reggie’s shoulders hunch as he crawls into the back and grabs the bag, crumpling it in his hand. Luke slings an arm over his shoulder and ruffles his hair, turning his frown upsidedown. He’s got both his backpack and Reggie’s slung over his shoulders and won’t let the other boy take his belongings.

The door swings open and there stands Bubbie. She’s a stout woman with strong arms that always give crushing hugs. The older woman’s hair in a long silver braid over one shoulder that ends at around her bellybutton, like she never gets a haircut, and she’s wearing a flower-print apron covered in flour over an Oakland A's t-shirt.

“My boys!” She opens her arms and Luke almost falls over as Reggie pushes away from him to wrap his arms around the woman. She squeezes him tightly and presses kisses into his hair. “ _Sheifale_ , so nice to see you. And you, _zeeskei_ and _motek_. Always a pleasure to have you.”

Alex and Luke walk up slower, eager to get their own hugs too. Luke doesn’t see his grandparents often and both sets of Alex’s grandparents died before he was born, young and tragic. It’s kind of awkward when Bubbie pulls him into a tight hug because his face goes right into the crack between her boobs. It’s like he’s being smothered by pillows, so he wriggles until Bubblie lets him go with a hearty chuckle. She smells like chicken soup and love, even if that thought makes Luke gag. Alex gives her a tight hug, tall enough for it _not_ to be awkward. Luke hates being the smallest of his friends, but they’re supposedly gonna hit _puberry_ soon or whatever their health teacher said and grow really tall. Luke’s dad is tall, so hopefully he can be tall too.

“Hello, mom,” David says as the boys rush inside. Luke hears their mumbled greetings over the sound of a baseball cracking against a bat coming from the living room at such a high volume. Reggie’s Zadie is deaf in one ear and listens to everything loudly, so the TV can pretty much be heard from anywhere in the house. “We’ll see you tomorrow?”

The older woman throws her hands up in the air. “I don’t understand why you won’t take the boys with you, but we’re happy to watch them.” She shakes her head. “Now off with you, or you’ll miss the game.”

Reggie stands next to Bubbie and Luke watches as he waves at his parents until they drive down the street, then his shoulders slump. “I’m sorry, _sheifale_ ,” she says in a soft voice as she pulls him into her arms. Luke and Alex have both agreed that Reggie’s parents suck. “Come. Watch the game.” Bubbie leads him with a hand on his shoulder until they meet Luke in the main hallway. It splits into the big living room and a thinner hallway leading towards the kitchen. Bubbie smiles down at Luke and he shoves his hands into his pockets. Reggie gives his arm a squeeze and heads into the living room where Zadie sits in his rocking chair, thick glasses sitting on his nose, his ratty Oakland A’s baseball cap askew on top of his liverspot-coverd head. Alex lay across the couch adjacent to the rocking chair, already reading _The Outsiders_. It’s the book they have to read for class and Luke doesn’t understand how he friend can think to do homework right now. His fingers itch for his notebook with bits and pieces of poetry and lyrics, but Bubbie puts a hand on his shoulder. “Ready, _motek_?”

Another reason Luke likes visiting Reggie’s grandparents is that Bubbie makes the best food in the whole world… beside his mom. But his mom doesn’t make soul-healing chicken soup or fluffy egg bread. “Yeah.” Bubbie waddles her way into the kitchen and Luke follows. He knows the guys probably know but won’t tell anyone, but baking is almost like poetry writing to him. He’s allowed to get all his frustration out on dough and everything has to be measured and perfect. Sometimes Luke wonders if Alex’s anxiety has rubbed off on him but he’s kind of okay with it? If he can unburden Alex just a little bit, being able to bake with Bubbie isn’t so bad.

* * *

“Check the timer, _motek_?” Bubbie asks as she washes her hands in the sink. “The challah should be ready.” Luke, standing to her right next to the oven, tries not to stare at the inside of her left arm. _170840_. He knows a little bit about the numbers, that they make Bubbie uncomfortable when someone stares at them, but Reggie’s told him not to ask. The old woman promised to tell them when they’re all older. His dad has a nautical tattoo on his shoulder, which he usually covers in sleeves, but Bubbie’s is different and she doesn’t talk about it. The one time he asked, she got all quiet and had this hazy, far away look in her eye for about five minutes before she came back and told him that he’ll learn when he’s older. Like all the adults in his life say. He wants to know _now_ , but not if it’s going to make full-of-life Bubbie go that quiet.

“It’s five-oh-fou—”

Luke doesn’t get to finish. There’s a loud sound, like an explosion, and the whole world shakes. The ground under his feet seems to roll like an ocean wave and there’s things falling off the shelves to the floor. Glass shatters, cutting Luke’s skin, and he gropes at the air. Books fall off the shelves, tumbling to the ground, and one of those special cups Bubbie lets them drink a single sip of wine from on Friday nights tumbles to the ground and shatters. The lights swing violently. Cracks appear as the wood warps under Luke’s feet. A skinny, gnarled hand grabs his arm in a vice-like grip and pulls him away from the middle of the room.

“EARTHQUAKE!”

Bubbie pulls him along and pushes him under the dining room table. It’s a thick slab of redwood, polished to reflect the chanadlire above. That same glitzy light rattles and creeks as it falls and shatters against the table. Bubbie pushes in behind Luke and he finds himself staring at Alex’s pale face, his eyes wide. Reggie’s curled into Zadie’s side, strong yet old arms wrapped around him, a large hand cradling the boy’s head to his chest. When Alex sees Luke, he uncurls enough for Luke to crawl into his lap, suddenly happy he’s the smallest of the boys.

Zadie reaches for Bubbie and presses their foreheads together, her arm wrapping around his back, making a circle around the boys.

“ _Baruch Atta Ado-noy Elo-hai-nu Melech ha'olam shekocho ugevurato malei olam_ ,” Bubbie’s whispering under her breath, over and over again. It feels like the world is ending and Luke feels tears welling up in his eyes as he presses his face to Alex’s chest. What if he die? He never told his mom he loved her. Well, he did before he left, as he always does, but he wants his mom. Alex’s arms tighten around him, lips against his forehead, fingers tapping out a soothing rhythm against his arm. It does little to help, but Luke lets Alex continue, knowing that the blonde needs it just as much as he does.

There’s more sounds of shattering and thumping as things fall off the walls and out of the shelves. Looking over Alex’s shoulder, he watches as the box TV falls off of the shelf in a big boom, shatters and sparks.

After what feels like forever, the world stops shaking and rolling like the ocean. Bubbie pulls away and Reggie blinks up at Zadie, face red from crying. “Is it over?” he asks, voice thick with tears. Luke cranes his neck to peek at Bubbie and she gives them all a small smile. 

“We should go outside,” Zadie says as he crawls out from under the table. He helps Bubblie up while the boys help each other. Luke can feel the cuts sting on his arms and he can see Zadie has one on his forehead. His Oakland A’s hat has a small cut in it. Reggie’s limping, complaining of a twisted ankle, so Luke and Alex become crutches for him, holding him around the middle as the three of them slowly walk behind his grandparents.

The house is in chaos when Luke allows himself to look. There’s glass everywhere, shattered ceramics. The black glass door of the over sits shattered, the charred remains of the challah sitting inside. “Aw, man,” Luke pouts, “we worked hard on that.”

“Let’s just be glad we’re not dead, okay?” Alex’s sarcasm washes over Luke and it’s actually kind of soothing, in a way? It just gives this crazy a little sense of normalcy. Reggie groans and leans heavier against Luke’s side, fist knotting into the back of his jean jacket. “And that Reg has a big extended family.” Luke nods. If that table had been much smaller, they wouldn’t have all been able to fit.

“Come, _yeladim_ ,” Bubbie reaches back and grabs Luke’s hand, “ _yala._ ” Luke has no idea what Bubbie’s saying— she likes to sprinkle in Hebrew and Yiddish in between the English. The five of them make their way out of the house, trying not to step on glass shards and avoiding the broken piano that must have fallen over, the keys scattered on the floor. “Oh, this is horrible. But at least we’re alive and not hurt.”

Outside, there are neighbors huddling in family units along the street, standing outside their houses. Some have caved in roofs. Others, like Reggie’s grandparents house, are luckier. Their windows are blown in and there’s rubble everywhere. Cars are overturned, leaning against each other and sideways. It’s like _Blade Runner_ or _Terminator_ just, you know, without the robots.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re okay!” one of the neighbors rushes over. She’s a pretty young woman with tan skin and long brown hair, kind brown eyes. She’s got a baby on her hip, a chubby thing that reminds Luke of Chloe when she was little. She was a big fat potato with hair and blue eyes. 

“Zelina, we’re fine,” Bubbie says as she helps Zadie sit on one of those fold out chairs Alex pulled away from the house and into the street, away from the building. “How is your family? Everyone okay?”

Zelina nods and presses her nose into the potato's hair. “ _Mi famila’s_ fine. Milo has a broken arm and we think Rhea has a concussion, but everyone’s going to be okay.”

“ _Beseder._ ” Luke follows Bubbie as she makes her way back to where her husband and the other boys are sitting. Zelina gives him a smile and the potato in her arm waves at him shyly, thumb shoved into her mouth, a tiny cut on her forehead.

They make it back to Zadie just in time to hear the beginning of another “back in the war” story. While Bubbie doesn’t like to talk about the war or the numbers on her arm, Zadie will tell all sorts of wild stories. Luke likes the one about the music the soldiers would make up by themselves when there was downtime. Reggie and Alex like the stories about traveling to different parts of the world, even though it was during wartime. Zadie’s waving his arms, the loose skin on his arm jiggling with every movement. It almost makes Luke forget about the dust in his hair and the cuts on his arms and the way there’s blood slowly beading out of the old man’s temple.

And then it happens. Luke watches as tiny cracks appear on the sidewalk, rocks vibrating, until the ground shakes and Luke goes tumbling to the ground. It’s like he’s trying to stand on the top of a wave and it’s terrifying. Bubbie falls to the ground, crying out and Luke blanches when he sees her twist her ankle. He falls down next to her, pressing into her side, feels Alex grab his other hand. Luke remembers learning about earthquakes and about aftershocks; the teacher told them how the Earth is almost alive, moving and shifting around, and that earthquakes happen when the plates move. There’s a fault under California and, apparently, it doesn’t like baseball.

It’s over just as soon as it starts. “Not as bad,” Zadie says in his raspy, crackling voice. He pats Reggie on the head and ruffles Alex’s hair. Luke smiles at him and squeezes Alex’s hand again, pushes his foot against Reggie’s. He needs to know his best friends are safe and alive.

“Bubbie?” Luke asks a few minutes after the ground stops rolling.

“Yes, _motek_?”

“Can we… can we call my parents?” Luke lets go of Alex’s hand and begins to wring his jacket between his fingers. With all the scariness, he didn’t even think of his parents before. What if they’re hurt and scared and just as worried about him as he is about them? What if something happened to them?

Bubbie wraps her arms around him. “Of course, _motek,_ ” she strokes his hair, “of course. Come.” She wraps an arm around her shoulder and steers him back inside. Reggie helps Zadie up and Alex grabs the old man’s other hand, helping Reggie to guide him inside. Luke’s scared the house will fall on them, but he follows Bubbie to the phone in the kitchen.

“There you go, Zadie,” Luke hears Reggie say. “I’m gonna go get you a bandaid and some water, okay? Or an ice tea.”

“I’ll stay with him.” Alex’s voice sounds strong, less shaky, and Luke is kinda worried he’s shoving all his nerves and anxiety down so he can be strong for Reggie, but he’s worried that the blonde’s gonna burst in the worst way possible. Reggie comes into the kitchen and sniffles, wipes his cheeks and nose with his sleeve. Bubbie rolls her eyes and scoffs, handing him a paper towel from the warped holder. He walks right into the older woman and wraps her in a tight hug, silent and shaking. Luke feels like he’s interrupting something and goes to step away when Reggie grabs him and pulls him into the hug. It smells like a weird mix of citrus and sweat and a hint of egg bread and Reggie’s crying into his shoulder. Luke pats his back, but he’s not good with people crying, so he stands there awkwardly until Bubbie pulls Reggie away and Luke’s allowed to grab the phone.

He dials his number as quickly as he can; it rings for all of a second before someone picks up. “Hello?” His mom sounds frantic, wobbling and almost fearful. “Rivkah? Simon?”

Luke’s hands shake and he can’t stop the tears from falling. “Mom?” he cries into the bottom part of the phone.

“Mitch, it’s Luke!” Her voice gets quiet for a minute as she pulls her mouth from the speaker. “Luke, are you okay, honey?” He can hear his dad in the background, asking more questions and saying something about driving up himself to check if his son’s okay. “Is everyone alright?”

“E-everyone’s okay,” he stutters. “We hid under the table.” He sucks in a deep breath and lets it out as a shuddering stream of air. “Are you… are you and dad okay?”

“Oh, honey…” His mom sounds like she wants to reach through the phone and hug him tightly. He wouldn't mind that actually. Reggie’s Bubbie might give the best grandma hugs, but his mom gives the best hugs in the whole world. She smells like lavender and clean laundry and, well, she smells like home. His dad gives the second best hugs in the world, squeezing him tight and smelling like wood shavings from work and his flannel shirt always scratches his cheek in the best way possible. All he wants is his parents, but Bubbie and Zadie will do just fine for now.

“Are you okay?” he asks again.

“The earthquake was just in the Bay Area, sweetie. And other cities around it. We were too far away.” He can hear her sniffle on the other end of the line. “Look, can you put Rivkah on the phone?”

“Okay,” Luke swallows, “I-I I love you, mom. I love you, dad.” He wants to say it, just in case one of those aftershocks happens again and something happens to him.

“We love you too, sweetie.” His mom presses a kiss against the phone. “We’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay.” He nods, even though she can’t see him. “Love you.” He looks up to find Bubbie’s kind eyes on him, her crow’s feet crinkling at the edges just a little bit. “Here.” He hands the phone to her and wipes at his eyes. He takes a few deep breaths before he walks into the living room. Zadie’s chair is still standing, even though the cloth on the arms have been torn. Reggie’s smearing a bit of Neosporin onto a Band-Aid, which he lovingly places on his Zadie’s forehead. And then he leans over and kisses over it. Alex sits on the floor next to the chair, staring at his _Outsiders_ book, ripped in half, face blank.

“You okay?” Luke asks as he sits down next to Alex.

“Yes… no… I don’t know.” He watches as the blonde tangles his fingers in his hair. "I want to call my parents but I also don’t?” Alex looks over at him, tears in his eyes. “It’s all just so messed up.” Sometimes Luke wonders why Alex feels like he needs to act like an adult. He knows Alex’s family isn’t all that in-tune with their feelings, except maybe Chloe who’s an annoying brat that Luke tolerates because of Alex.

“You know,” Luke says as he sits next to Alex, “you don’t have to be strong _all the time._ ”

It’s like saying that breaks something within Alex. He leans over, buries his head in Luke’s lap, and sobs. He curls into a ball and cries, fisting Luke’s shirt in his hands. Luke feels warmth on his other side and finds Reggie looking at him with wet eyes. The other boy leans against his shoulder and the three of them cry together.

There’s another tremble underneath them, a slow roll of the ground; an aftershock but smaller this time. Luke just hugs Reggie and runs his other hand through Alex’s hair and prays to whatever musical god is up there that everything will be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> sheifale- lamb  
> zeeskeit- honey/sweetie  
> motek- sweetheart  
> yeladim- children  
> yala- let's go  
> Beseder- good
> 
> Baruch Atta Ado-noy Elo-hai-nu Melech ha'olam shekocho ugevurato malei olam: Blessed are You, L‑rd our G‑d, King of the universe, whose power and might fill the world.
> 
> TW: Holocaust mentioned, panic attack


End file.
